


hold me in your arms, take the pain away

by Secretstanner



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretstanner/pseuds/Secretstanner
Summary: It’s 1933, Phil Lester is stuck working for this father’s newspaper, when given an assignment. He must write an article about the first circus to return to Manchester in over 10 years.He arrives at the circus expecting to being reminded of childhood memories. It turns out to be so much more than that when he meets Dan Howell.





	hold me in your arms, take the pain away

**Author's Note:**

> I had the strangest idea to actually TRY and write a fic. I’m just going to go for it. A lot of these notes will be changed if I complete the fic. Same as the rating. This is a wip so tags will be added, nothing major. 
> 
> I want to say a big thank you to @phanbliss who is such a sweet person and offered me help when I didn’t even know where to start.

He was sitting at his type writer, staring blankly at the keys beneath his fingertips. What was he writing about again? He couldn't remember, and he certainly did not care. His foot tapped impatiently as he was thinking about how he came to be stuck in this unwanted job. It was all because of one person. His father.

Phil was soon shaken out of his thoughts when a pair of legs appeared standing in front of his desk. They belonged to his boss, Mr Johnson. He was a short, fat man, balding with prominent wrinkles adorning his face, caused by stress at the age of fifty-three. The buttons of his crinkled white shirt strained because of the incredible amounts of fat around his once slim belly.

Phil didn’t even get a chance to greet him before a hand came slamming down on top of his hard wood desk. There, in his cigarette stained fingers, was a large poster screwed up in a tight fist, digits curled around the paper with such a forceful grip that made it look like the paper could disintegrate at any moment. It was way too damaged to go back to its original form, as the sheet was ruined and almost void of any colour it once had. It was now ripped and curling in on itself due to rain and intense sunlight.

He had to strain his eyes harshly to properly read what the poster once said. The Wonder Requiem Cirque. A circus? Why was Mr Johnson bringing him this poster?

He could still remember the first time he stepped foot in a circus. It was better than his imagination could have ever led him to believe. An enormous red and gold striped tent fixed to the once muddy field, now brought to life with twinkling light and dawned acts, greeting young children as they ran inside.

That was the first and last time he had ever been to one. He couldn’t remember much of that afternoon, but he held on to any broken memories that he had yet to fully piece together. It was one of the best days of his young life. He was never allowed to do much other than attend school and his father's workplace, so something as magical as a circus coming to the city was more than his young brain could fathom.

Circus performers were given a bad reputation after the incident that happened in 1921. It shocked most of the city, and left the performers cast away; some even branded them as freaks. There were still whispers heard every now and again of them being in nearby towns but none had dared to come back to Manchester.

Even with that being over 10 years ago, he couldn’t help but still feel like that same little boy who once thought how incredible it would be to travel all round the world in a circus. Not that he had talent good enough that people would pay to see him, no, he was way too clumsy for anything that would need to gain attraction.

No matter how old he grew, it would always be a distant dream that would stay in the back of his mind. He often wrote fiction about traveling to places like The United States. But that was only fiction, never to become a reality.

Realising he hadn’t actually spoken yet, he cleared his throat and said, “A circus, sir?”

With his heart beating at a fast pace, he tried to hide his excitement. Mr Johnson moved his face so it was merely inches away from Phil’s, until he was leaning completely across the desk, which caused it to creak as he had placed both hands against the wood. It definitely wouldn’t be able to hold his weight.

“Yes, Philip, the circus freaks are back!”

‘Freaks’? Why did that word sting like someone took a lit cigarette and pressed it to his bare flesh? Was it because he felt that word applied to him?

As a kid, he would read books about running away to the circus. He almost did at one point in his life. As a small child he already knew he didn’t want what his father planned for him. To get a job at his father’s newspaper company, marry a beautiful young woman, and start a family. Even at 9 years old he knew he couldn’t let that happen, well, not yet at least. He wanted to explore and write fiction, and as a boy, running away was the only solution his mind could propose. Now at 24, he knew the best he could do was put off marrying as long as possible, and if that meant doing what he was told, he would do it.

How could Phil respond to Mr Johnson’s words? What did he need from him? Phil just stared at him trying to give no indication that those words affected him.

Mr Johnson finally spoke once again. “Do you know how much attention this will bring to the city, Philip? It’s been years, and we are the first to know about this, I looked all around town and didn’t find a single flier. We need to contact them before any of the other local news outlets get a hold of this.”

All Mr Johnson cared about was money and being the first to write an article about this would be the talk of Manchester.

He knew he had to ask. “What exactly do you want to contact them about? To give an interview?” Mr Johnson shrugged. Phil let out a small sigh “Who are you going to get to write about it, sir?”

Phil didn’t think for a second that he would be given this assignment. He was never. He would always be given the pages towards the back of the newspaper, only ever given mundane activities to write about. Phil was sure no one cared to ever read it - except for his mother, of course.

“You will. Roger doesn’t have the—the same way with people like you do. You could get as much of behind-the-scene information as possible. People trust you Philip. You’re odd, people take trust in that. They won’t be worried about what they tell you.”

He was right. Phil was so odd that no one would have ever seen Phil as a threat. He was tall and slim, with shaggy black hair he slicked back with gel and small round frames that sat at the bridge of his slightly beaked nose. No one would ever find him intimidating. He was good with people and very well liked at university. He knew people found him credible.

“What is it that you need me to report on?”

Mr Johnson’s smile yellow stained teeth showing as he spoke, “I want you to find out about the death in ’21. See if they knew anything about the circus it happened in, where are the people who worked there? I’m sure they heard about it, their kind must have been aware for none to have come here, until now that is.”

“What makes you think they would even tell us any information? They won’t agree to talking to a newspaper.”

“Like I said Philip, they trust you. Make friends with the carnies if you have to. We’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse. No one says no to free publicity.”

Phil really didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to trick these performers into giving information and then have to write about It. He knew he had to do this. If Mr Johnson spoke to his father, Phil knew that it would only cause trouble. Phil really did the bare minimum, only being employed because his father had a say in him being there. He didn’t want to cause his father any trouble.

Phil straightened up directing his body to face Mr Johnson. He had to pretend he actually wanted to write this article. Phil let out an unsure breath and said, “When do I start?”

~*~

He could feel heat blazing from sun warming, his bare arms. He was actually just on his way outside when he noticed an envelope by his trailer door. Hovering over the freshly cut lawn. “What you got there, Dan?” He looked up to see the petite figure of a young female standing a foot away. He held up his hand trying to block out the sunlight beams that were blocking his vision.

The girl was beautiful, she donned features of intense coffee coloured eye, and thick waves of chocolate hair. It was Hazel, his best friend he’d known since he was barely 6 years old. She looked just like Dan. Her hair was pulled into a messy pony tail tied with a light red ribbon. A few of her locks managed to escape their confinements and lay sprawled across her rosy red cheeks. People would often mistake them as twins when they were younger and at the time, they actually played up to the deceiving act.

“Hey, Hazy. I actually don’t know, I found it just outside my door. Vincent must have left it there. It was opened when I found it.”

Hazel moved closer to Dan and sitting next to him, blocking the entrance to his trailer. “Why don’t you open it?” she questioned, her eyes flicking from Dan to the ripped envelope.

Dan quickly bumped shoulders with her. “I was just about to, you know, right before you came and distracted me,” he said with a playful grin.

Hazel swatted Dan’s arm. “Just open it, Nincompoop!”

Dan spat out a laugh. “Oh, is there really any need for name-calling?” Hazel just gave him an unimpressed look. “Fine, fine, I’m opening it now.”

_

100 York road,

Manchester,

MA1 4HH

Vincent. P. James, The Wonder Requiem Cirque

I’m writing from Manchester’s local newspaper, The Lester Standard. We heard news of you coming to Manchester and thought it would be an interesting story to interview some of your circus folk. As you are probably aware, there has not been such an attraction in the city in many years. Our establishment could gain you a lot of publicity, that is if you allowed it, as we are one of the top news outlets. We will not pay for your time but offer publicity as payment.

I would send Mr. Lester, son of the owner of The Lester Standard and our best writer. We can do nothing but assure you this young man will be nothing but well-behaved. I would have him shadow and interview your performer and get a real behind the scenes look at how carney folk really live. I have left the address for The Lester Standard If you wish to reply.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Mr Johnson

_

Hazel turned to meet Dan’s eyes. “What do you think?”

Dan didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t want someone to demand questions about their way of life.

“I--I think if this is what Vincent wants, then we should do as he pleases. I’m sure he is aware of all the things that may go wrong. But this Mr Johnson from the letter is right. Publicity, free publicity is what we need now more than before. We have barely gotten by for the past few years, we need this.”

Hazel shot him a sympathetic smile. “Are you going to go find him?”

Dan placed the sheet of paper back in the envelope. “Yes, I need to know what he needs from me. There must be something if he left this at my door.”

She stood to move away, but not before turning back to Dan. “Come find me later?”  
He gave her a reassuring nod, and she bashfully placed her small hand on Dan’s cheek and gave a quick peck to Dan’s lips before hurrying away.

Dan set out on finding Vincent. He had known Dan since the day he was born. Vincent was younger then, of course; his head, once full of tawny locks was now left with sparse silver specks that no longer covered his scalp. The once gorgeous showman was now replaced with the 60-year-old man old enough to be a grandfather. He was that for many as he housed runaways over the years, asking for nothing, not even a penny and giving everything he could. Maybe that’s why everything they had was falling apart. It was the reason they had ended up in Manchester.

Dan was soon stood in the small dining tent. It was close to noon, maybe he would have luck finding him. As he was searching, he spotted Dorothy. She looked a lot like Hazel, being her mother and all, but she didn’t hold the same youthful appearance as her daughter did. He spoke as he made his way over to her. “Hey, Dee. Have you seen Vincent?”

“Sweetie,” She took Dan’s face in her hands, small fingers running across his stained pink cheeks. She kissed his forehead gently and answered his question when she saw the impatient look of his face. “Yes, not so long ago I saw him by his trailer. Is there something you need, Mon Cher?”

“I found a letter he left me this morning, I just wanted to ask him about it.”

“Ah well you better find him, he said he was heading into town, so go quick before he’s gone.”

Dan thanked her by kissing her hand and running in the direction of Vincent’s trailer.

In the distance he saw Vincent, dressed in his best day clothes – definitely not something he’d wear everyday working around the tents. They didn’t dress up unless they had a show. His blazer and trousers looked to be made from dark brown wool that looked like it would scratch the naked skin underneath, causing minor grazes. The clothes were a little outdated - they looked as if they were about to burst trying to stretch across his oversized frame.

“Vincent,” Dan yelled hoping that he was heard from across the dried-out field. He was in luck when he saw him turn to see Dan running towards him. Dan found himself gasping from running at such a rapid speed. Once he was a few feet away from Vincent, he huffed a laugh while bending over to catch himself from collapsing.

Vincent chuckled, eyes forming deep creases above his cheeks. “Don’t go killing yourself, Dan.”

Dan stood up straight once he was sure he wasn’t going to faint. “Are you heading out?” He remembered Dorothy said he was going into town, he assumed it was to give Mr Johnson an answer.

“I was actually, did you by any chance read the letter I left for you?”

“I did. Why did you need me to read it?” He assumed it was because he needed to be interviewed. Dan wasn’t a performer anymore, but he knew a lot about how everything worked around here; he had a lot of information that Mr Lester would need.

“Well, they’re sending Mr Lester over to write a report and I need someone to help him. As you know, once everyone finds out about him being here to write for a newspaper, they won’t be very forthcoming with him.” He paused to clear his throat, Dan could see the stress taking over his body. It aged him prematurely. “We need this, Dan. I don’t know how much longer we can last; this article can bring in crowds of unimaginable amounts of people. Ones we haven’t ever had or at least since before…”

Dan remembered they once had the most popular circus that was known by all towns and cities around. People would flock for miles just to see one performer in particular. They needed something to help them before it was too late.

“I’ll do it for you—I’ll do it for us.”

Vincent’s shoulders dropped dramatically like every ounce of stress had flowed from his body out into the hot air. “Thank you, Dan. Your parents would be so proud of you, you know that, don’t you?”

Dan did know that, and it was the only thing that kept him going, kept him here with this makeshift family they all created together. He couldn’t help but smile, no matter what had happened in his past. At 20 years of age his life was only just beginning.

“Yeah, I know, how could they not be? I mean, look at me.” He gestured to himself, stood wearing the darkest pair of slacks he could find, brown coloured braces and a white tee. “I’m the gorgeous piece of arse that brings all the people flocking in.”  
Dan couldn’t help smirk at the sarcasm that dripped from his tongue, he was rarely seen by any of the audience. He preferred to stay in the background these days, helping the acts get ready for the show, and bringing them water once they finished performing.

Vincent’s face had turned red from holding his breath. He finally released a screech of laughter that he was holding in. “Yes, Dan what would any of us do without—your arse? And really, it seems like Hazel is the only person you can get to flock to you.”

Dan let out a nervous laugh before sighing. He reached up to smooth the back of his neck. “Ha, yeah, you aren't wrong there.”

Vincent rolled his eyes at Dan’s uneasiness. “Oh now, a beautiful girl that’s been falling for you since you weren’t even teens, sounds just the worst there, Dan.”

“Sorry, I’m just having an off day, think the sun’s getting to me.”

Dan looked up to see Vincent giving him a knowing grin. He was a kind, gentle person, Dan knew he meant nothing by it. “Yeah, I know. I’m actually going to head off now. I want to get there and back before dark. Do you think you could tell some of them? I don’t want to leave it too long before Mr Writer Man is here,” he said as he puffed out his chest to imitate what this reporter might be like.

“I’ll go find Hazel, I promised I’d meet her as soon as I finished talking to you.”

Vincent took Dan in a warm embrace before turning away and opening his car door. It was about an hour drive to the city, so he needed to leave now.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is fiction. If words and places don’t add up with dates then I am aware. I’m still thinking about the time it’s set in. I’ve been going back and forth. This is a draft, So there still could be some tweaks I might make. I don’t want to set it in modern day for the storyline but i might bring it forward a bit. I will avoid talking about things like the war/s in this fic or anything major happenings if I stay with this time period. 
> 
> I’m looking for an experienced beta or someone I can go back and forth with about ideas and the storyline. If anyone is interested please dm on tumblr. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/secretstanner
> 
> I would love feed back if possible. Constructive of course would be best. Let me know what you think. Thanks guys x


End file.
